Messages Left Unsaid
by akiruisora
Summary: Life wasn't and would never be fair. Tsuna knew that from the very beginning.


I… didn't really know what to do with a fanfic like this, but after almost a year of it sitting around in my folder, I thought I'd share it.

 **To anyone who is struggling at the moment:**

Please know that it will get better, even if you feel like you're at rock bottom. There are people who love and care about you, be it family or friends. We are here for you, so please don't think that suicide is the answer...

 **Warning(s): OOC, dark themes: bullying, implied self-harm, suicide**

Please don't read any further if any of these warnings make you uncomfortable.

Thank you.

* * *

 _Messages Left Unsaid_

 _DIE_

 _You suck_

 _Useless_

 _DISAPPEAR_

 _Nobody likes you, Dame-Tsuna_

Physical pain was different from the pain he felt, reading the same, messy handwriting. Familiar, yet all too painful…

 _Always_ painful.

 _Pain -me-. Nobody likes it -me-, so why does pain -me- exist?_

 _Why do_ _ **I**_ _exist?_

Marker, ball pen, all kinds of pens and pencils, fat blotches of ink - _blood-_ droplets repeating the same reminders of his anguish, of how he was alone; a complete outsider.

 _ **Not wanted.**_

Tsuna only sat at his desk, the solitary figure of his classroom, fingers - _bandaged_ fingers- lacking any spirit, picking slowly at the fraying edges of his spare notebook. He held back his tears, chewing hard on his trembling, chapped lips, silently wondering what he had done wrong.

What did he do wrong?

No… that wasn't the right question.

Just what did he _hope_ to do without knowing what he did wrong?

There wasn't much point was there?

Wondering. Learning. _Breathing_.

He blinked.

 _None at all._

He continued nonetheless, reading what was both said and unsaid, the sound of crinkled paper echoing loudly in the empty class, his eardrums hurting from how _loud_ it rang in the classroom. _Or was it in his head_? His glassy, dull eyes, concentrating, focusing solely on the words. He knew he shouldn't look through them, it was always the same, the same. The same.

 _ **The same.**_

He was useless. He could not change that.

Every page he turned felt like a bullet, drilling through his chest, through his beating heart. The more he flipped through, the more needles he felt pricking him, stabbing him, _killing_ him- he knew the consequences- he knew them well, but he couldn't stop himself.

 _It hurt because they weren't wrong._

He couldn't help but think of himself as a masochist.

 _Am I?_

He needed the pain.

 _Do I?_

He needed to feel, he needed reminders because he _deserved_ it.

 _Yes, I do._

Because why else would they tell him to die?

He wasn't **worth** it. He didn't **deserve** to live, and his mother was **suffering** because of him.

Because of him.

 _Because of me._

Yes. That had to be it.

It was all his fault.

 _It's my fault._

 _Yes_ , his wrists agreed with the thought.

Because of all the gossiping mothers, his mother was affected- called a _terrible_ mother behind her back, things he always heard- so untrue, so untrue-

This time, the messages were in bright red.

He stood, chair scraping, emphasized by the silence, words not making it past tightly sewn lips.

They never will, Tsuna already knew.

Looking out the window, he watched, with wet eyes on the group of students laughing, juniors he recognized from the year below him, playing baseball, shouting, cheering, _laughing_.

 _At him._

It almost seemed as though they were mocking him.

 _Hahaha, look at them Tsuna. Look._ It urged him closer, _look at what they have-_

Everything that was happy mocked him.

 _Why can't I be happy?_

 _Life was mocking him-_ he thought sardonically as he dug the palms of his hands into his eye sockets, wiping, trying so hard to soak away evidence of his grief.

 _You're jealous aren't you?_

 _Shut up._

The setting sun case a beautiful bloody orange curtain, staining the walls of the empty prison with fading light. It was almost nostalgic, the shade it created- reminding him of a faint family memory, where he and his mother- just his sweet, loving mother, sat side by side under the shade of an ancient oak tree.

Just the both of them in the quiet hills, watching the sun begin to fall, slowly getting ready for a long rest from shining its brilliance for the entire day.

Orange. His favorite color.

But that didn't matter did it? _Nothing ever did._

His fingers, down to his wrists were bandaged, dirty blotches of red, cold against the window pane, so cold, so cold-

Tsuna's attention was once again on the courts of the school campus. His eyes followed two students like a hawk eying its prey, closely surveying and analyzing seemingly close friends from what their body language suggested, the familiarity, the comfortableness they shared as they faced the biting autumn winds with matching paired scarves.

Something positively _burnt_ within him, in the pit of his stomach, and for a moment, Tsuna wondered if he was getting sick- knowing well of how sensitive he was to the cold, before he understood, it wasn't that at all. No, it wasn't that at all. It was somehow different, the way it accelerated his heartbeat, driving it faster like the stress it endured during exercise sessions he had twice a week where he had to run around the school grounds at least twice before stretching in pairs.

Except he never had a partner. His class was an odd one, with one boy extra, everyone but him were in pairs. The heat spread from his clenching heart, fiery through his veins, and with sick recognition of what was wrong with him, Tsuna's eyes narrowed as a frown marred his features, and he scrunched his nose in self-disgust at his own rotten emotions.

His loathe of his feelings did not have the power to control the broken dam that tried so hard to contain his tears.

With gritted teeth, unable to hold back the fat blobs of warmth that felt so _frigid_ and _excruciating_ as it trailed down the carved paths of his dry cheeks – dripping, dripping onto his uniform, staining- ruining what his mother had ironed so meticulously in a way that it looked like a dance, a routine that was so effortless yet heart-warming because to him, because he appreciated it.

He knew what he was feeling.

 _Jealousy_? He laughed.

No. That wasn't the right word.

 _Envy_ was.

He accepted what the voice was telling him, howling with pitiful despair, "YES!"

 _Yes! Yes I am jealous! I'm envious of what they have! Of what I can never have!_

 _It's not fair!_

 _Why?!_

 _It's not fair! It's not fair! It'snotfairit'snotfairnotfairNOTFAIR-_

"IT'S NOT FAIR!"

"WHY!?"

A sorrowful scream ripped through the silence, followed by two resounding thumps on the glass. Tsuna's head dropped against the screen, knees buckling as his hands slid down, leaving screeches that reflected the savage storm of his swirling emotions. He withdrew his pounding fist, nails digging- furiously biting crescents into the palm of his hand. He could feel it with the accentuated rush of his blood, the numbing sensation as the ache pulsated in time with the beating of his heart.

Through blurred vision, he choked back a sob, breathing constricted, coming out as angry, airy puffs as he witnessed one of the students, the shorter more shyer, tripped, and without a second of hesitation, a hand was offered by the taller female.

He couldn't take it anymore-

So he turned away.

It hurt so much his chest felt like exploding, he couldn't breathe, his hair disheveled, messy as he clawed his eyes out, sobbing, knees drawn to his thinning chest.

Back to the wall, he cried until there were no more tears to shed, till he was exhausted, bony arms wet through drenched puddles of his sadness, his long sleeves, previously cleanly pressed, now soggy and disgustingly icy to his skin.

Tsuna sat motionless, head in his arms- his scarred arms, sniffling, eyes swollen and irritated red, stringy vessels stretching across his eyes, like fingers of barren trees, reaching up to the sky, begging for light and life to return.

Everything had been reduced to a numbing sensation, a poison that further deteriorated what was left of him.

"It's not fair..." he repeated, voice a wisp that died without every making itself known, a ghost of a whisper that faded away.

Life wasn't and would never be fair. Tsuna knew that from the very beginning.

* * *

Fair

Adjective: **fairer, fairest.**

1\. Free from bias, dishonesty, or injustice:  
 _a fair decision; a fair judge._

2\. Legitimately sought, pursued, done, given, etc.; proper under the rules:  
 _a fair fight._

3\. Moderately large; ample:  
 _a fair income._

4\. Neither excellent nor poor; moderately or tolerably good:  
 _fair health._

5\. Marked by favoring conditions; likely; promising:  
 _in a fair way to succeed._

 _6\. Meteorology_.  
(Of the sky) bright; sunny; cloudless to half-cloudy.

 **Free from bias, dishonesty, or injustice.**

"Did you hear? Sawada got beaten up again."

 _I'm sorry._

"He's so weak, why doesn't he just fight back?"

 _I can't._

"Shh, quiet or he'll hear us!"

 _I always do._

"We don't want to be involved with a loser like him."

 _That's okay too._

"Dame-Tsuna's here, let's leave before we catch anymore of his dumb germs."

 _I'm sorry._

"You can't even catch a ball? How pathetic are you?"

 _I'm sorry._

I'm sorry.

Since when was life fair anyway? To anyone?

He could never be free. They were just lies. This freedom from bias, dishonesty or injustice.

It never existed.

"I'm sorry."

* * *

His feet had somehow travelled without his consciousness, out of the classroom, through the vacant hallways and up the stairs, up, up, up to the very top of the school. All the while, he was vaguely aware of how slow his footsteps were, how so _out_ of it he was, as if his body belonged to another, as if his body weren't his own, a mere puppet to be manipulated. It almost seemed like he was watching from behind a screen, losing grip- his control over his own body.

But that wasn't it, he was in control of himself-

He _had_ to be.

He felt for the doorknob. Heard as it clicked with a twist of his wrist, and the groan as it was opened, slowly.

Everything was so slow.

With every blink, he noticed how closer and closer he was getting to the fence.

Every step, an inch closer, a footstep more.

Until he was right on the ledge, looking down on the world painted a dying orange.

The shadows of trees on the courtyard, now empty, looked eerie with the oncoming night- scary like the tales his father used to tell. Naughty children would be taken away by monsters.

 _Ah._

What would he say about a son as useless as he?

He never came home anyway. How would he know?

He could hear his heart, loud and clear, and a moment of calm fell upon him.

Watching the sunset beyond the mountains of Namimori, he oddly felt the urge to reach and grab whatever was left of quickly weakening sunlight.

It shone through the gaps of his fingers, almost blinding him and then-

The wind whispered, nipping at the tip of his ears, _jump,_ it told him.

 _Jump._

Oh.

-it was gone.

At first, it was subtle, barely noticeable, as the landscape shifted. Buildings elongated, windows deformed as it stretched vertically.

And, were the buildings always this tall?

His hold on the rail slipped, and when he recognized the rush of wind that cackled past his ears, he screamed, stomach dropping as he fell head first, flailing, blindly reached around him to grab onto something- _anything_ for stability.

Yet he found none.

He slowly realized his predicament, his shouts quieting as the wind flew past his brunette locks, screeching past his ears, and he was flying-

Maybe it wasn't so bad?

Whether or not he was falling or flying suddenly didn't matter anymore.

Yes, maybe this was what he needed.

Like a madman, his eyes were wide with panic, lips trembling upward and he smiled- he felt truly happy.

 _Am I really happy?_

And just like that, it shattered, his grin faded and he was left hollow- a pang of recognizable hurt shooting through him as he suddenly remembered. For how could he forget?

His mom.

 _Oh God._

Suddenly, his entire being was filled with dread, dread that froze him, slowing time and he was regretting everythingeverythingeverything-

Tears sprung back to life, and he was falling just like it was, he saw her flash in his mind, her motherly radiance, so warm- where he felt safety, so safe and so at home.

His mother smiling and welcoming him home, a ladle in her hand as she prepared dinner, mouth-watering and delicious ever in his memories.

His mother's love and tender care, when he was down, when he was hurt- she eased and soothed his wounds with her calming care, unfailing to be there, regardless of the situation.

The crinkle in her eyes as they walked along the river bed, rested on the grass, making flower crowns with the little buds they had found blooming.

Her calming voice, beckoning him closer with a gentle, "Tsu-kun!" as they played hide and seek so long ago, just in their garden and around their humble home, where he knew he could always return to.

Only now, he couldn't.

"M-mama I-I-"

He _knew_ he couldn't.

* * *

"Hello? This is the Sawada residence, who might this be?"

"Is this Sawada Nana on the phone?"

"Yes?"

"On behalf of the school, I am sorry to inform you that your son was found dea-"

"..."

"Ma'am?"

 **End.**

* * *

This was all inspired by a Japanese program I watched where a student was bullied in the same exact way- the only difference was the ending. This program was also where chapter 7 of Memory of Lies came from.

 **Please remember that this is my interpretation of depression... I have never had such an experience, so I've relied on research and imagination, so it may be completely wrong and/or unrealistic, and I sincerely hope that I have not offended anyone on such sensitive matters.**

On a side note, maybe something more uplifting? I've finally finished with my exams! For now...

Hopefully this means a bit more updates since I've been neglecting writing haha… Sorry.

Thank you for reading.


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